


Shook

by mhunter10



Series: Ma: Queen of the Castle [7]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Awkward Sexual Situations, Awkwardness, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Masturbation, Minor Original Character(s), Mother-Son Relationship, Sexual Content, Teen Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 05:19:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15526914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mhunter10/pseuds/mhunter10
Summary: Mickey is shoved off the cliff into his teenaged years by one of Terry's friends and mama’s fondness for old movies





	Shook

**Author's Note:**

> Teen Mickey discovering himself in ways teens typically do...

Mickey quickly gets up from the couch, throwing the pillow he had in his lap aside. His ma doesn’t even look away from their television screen, eyes glued and a content smile on her face. They were curled up next to each other, glad to be back with each other after two months a part. Kathleen had been charged with a DUI and possession, and it was Terry's fault for making her use again to escape the pain, but she apologized anyway from behind the correctional facility glass; touching her hand to it and hoping her boy wasn’t too mad at her for relapsing. But she was back now and she was good, and Mickey wasn’t her boy so much anymore. It made her sad to think she had missed so much in the short time, and guilty when she came home to healing bruises. In her absence, Mickey had had to deal with her husband directly and it showed in the couple days it took for him to let his guard down. But if it meant they could go back to watching movies together, she was happy.

Mickey was happy too, after walking on the eggshells of his father's good side for a little over eight weeks. Of course that meant going on runs and getting swept up in the shit he knew his mama hated for him, but the beatings were minimal when Terry was happy so he coped the best he could. She started her new job as a nail technician later that day, thanks to her PO, and Mickey was glad to see her so excited about it. Now he kept the image of crusty feet and toenails in his mind, as he leaned over the sink and waited for his boner to go down. He sighed, still able to hear the movie through the closed door.

This time it was Warren Beatty in Splendor in the Grass. The story was ridiculously over the top, horrifically tragic yet relatable, a running tradition in vintage Hollywood, but he couldn't help but be fixated by the man who was probably pushing fifty now. He was a major hunk in his day, though, much to Mickey’s surprised annoyance. It wasn’t like he wanted to be a horny fucker right next to his mom, but he also hated the fact she was probably just as aroused watching Patrick Swayze gyrating his hips in Dirty Dancing. And he didn’t like that Putzie in Grease reminded him of Ian’s sweet but cocky bad boy demeanor. Fuck, now he was thinking of men in tight jeans and shirts, and he felt like his stupid prepubescent self. He was maybe twelve when it really started, earlier if he was honest but he wasn't gonna fucking admit that.

He wished it had been just the growing part that seemed to be hitting his brothers and friends, fuck even Ian was catching up to him, but it was everything else that was a bitch. The hair and smells and appetite he could handle. It was the other stuff...below his waist. And he wasn’t just being a typical dramatic teenager, no, this was serious. He knew right away it wasn’t right what was happening to him. Something was wrong with him, he was sure of it. If his dad ever noticed, he'd never survive or get out of the Southside. There was no question he had to keep it to himself, even if it took him a while to realize what it was.

First time he pops a real boner is watching one of his dad's friends jump a gang leader. Judd was always friendly to him despite Terry, and sometimes Mickey wished he was his dad instead. Other times he was glad he wasn’t. He could be mean, pretty brutal when it came to collecting or running, but that wasn't it. Mickey didn’t know what he wanted him to be to him. He couldn’t explain thinking about him when he wasn’t around, his heart beating faster when he was mentioned. He had brown eyes and dark wavy hair that touched his shoulders. He always seemed to be wearing a jean jacket over a wife-beater, and smelled like the vanilla cigars he smoked. He would sleep on their couch sometimes when he was too drunk and Mickey would watch him, wondering why it was so hard to keep his hands to himself. Most of all Judd was nice to his mama, so maybe that was all it was. He’d punch Mickey’s arm playfully and call him tough guy.

Mickey remembers coming to find his dad at the back of the bar and seeing Judd easily take down the smaller guy. He pinned him down, using his hips and legs to hold him in place while he landed punches, getting blood on his knuckles and shirt. Mickey could feel his own blood rushing to his dick, making it go stiff in his pants where he stood. Almost as if he could read it all over his face, Terry barked at him to get the fuck out. Mickey ran home to his room, scared and confused but wanting it to happen again. After that time, it didn't stop. Anything set him off, but Judd especially got him hard. It was embarrassing and he hated that he couldn’t just hang around him anymore. It was wrong and gross, rubbing himself through his jeans in the bathroom when he was over at their house, but it felt so good. His laugh sent shivers through him. He was scared, though, always afraid to keep going out of fear he really wasn't normal.

But one time Judd steps out for more beers, leaving his jacket on the couch, so Mickey takes it to his room while his father pisses. He doesn’t know why this time is different but just having it to himself makes him crazy. It's dangerous and reckless and he knows he'll get beat if he's caught, but it doesn’t stop him dropping his boxers and grabbing his dick. And he doesn’t stop, moving his hand faster and faster until he feels his toes curl. He’s wound up so tight and so hot and one more sniff of the jacket makes it all come undone. For the first time, three weak spurts of white come from his dick and he tries his best to wipe the jacket clean between tears of pleasure and shame. After that he stays away from Judd when he can until eventually he gets shot in the chest by a not-so-stray bullet. There’s no funeral and all of Terry's friends after are scum of the fucking earth.

Mickey flushes the toilet, satisfied his fourteen year old dick has calmed enough to at least finish the movie. When he returns, his ma looks at him and smiles. He sits through another five minutes, focusing on the actress instead. He wonders if maybe he could learn to turn it off and on with girls so his dad didn’t murder him. It could work if he did it right. No one would ever have to know it wasn't what he really wanted.

"Hey, sugar, can you grab my lighter from my drawer? This one's done," Kathleen asked, tossing the empty one on the coffee table next to her foot.

Mickey nodded, glad for the distraction. He walked to his parent's bedroom to her side of the bed and pulled out the nightstand drawer. He shuffled some things around, looking for the shiny brass lighter with the roses on it. He moved some envelopes and a journal, freezing when his eyes landed on a dark purple tube that couldn't be lipstick. He picked it up and saw a button on the bottom and thought maybe a small flashlight, but the tapered end didn’t make sense. He pressed it and it began to vibrate gently in his hand. He flinched, gasping soundlesslessly when he realized what it was, and quickly went to turn it off. It went through two more intense settings, to Mickey’s horror, before he threw it back into the drawer and slammed the whole thing shut.

"You find it?" His ma asks from behind him, coming into the room and beginning to change her clothes.

Mickey whipped around, heat rising in his face and heart skipping a beat. "N-nah," he shrugged, but she wasn't really paying attention to him.

"I'll find it later. I gotta run," she did a little dance in her underwear resembling Baby, pulling Mickey to her to be her Johnny. "Can you tell I'm excited? What should I wear?" She spun her son around, taking the lead now.

Mickey couldn't help but laugh, falling into step with her easily, having seen the movie dozens of times. "I dunno. Pick something so you won't be late," he dipped her, glad Terry wasn’t home.

She frowned, "No help at all."

Mickey shrugged, stepping back and glancing towards the drawer. He didn’t know why but he wasn't as freaked out as he thought he was. "How'd the movie end?"

"Everyone was unhappy with their lives until they died. A classic," she winked at him, pulling on a pair of jeans and one of her nicer shirts. "Up or down?"

"Up?"

Kathleen nodded, putting her hair up in a ponytail, and he gave her a thumbs up, which she returned with a kiss on his cheek. "Eat something and call me if you need me."

"I always need you," Mickey half-teased like always, although he did mean it...especially now. Terry's idea of advice involved checking for hair in the grill of the car after an "accident", not what to do when you wanted dick instead of pussy. But what was she supposed to do about that? He could never tell her, but a hug might make it all less terrifying.

"Ain't got enough minutes for that, baby. Lock up behind me, alright?"

She was gone and Mickey was left alone with his stupid thoughts and his stupid penis. His brothers showed him porn but he could never get past all the shrill, fake moaning. They would laugh and joke at the videos with two guys, calling them fags and sissy's like their father taught them, and Mickey was afraid if they found out those types of videos made him want to moan like some bitch. So he was stuck using his hand any way he found felt good. He started slow at first, unsure of himself and constantly on edge in case anyone heard or walked in. He got better at being quieter, faster, more efficient. Not all of it worked for him, but it didn't take long to figure what he liked.

And what he liked was things in his ass. He'd never used anything but his fingers and the end of an old toothbrush, but God did it work for him. The first few times hurt so much that he was left crying even after he came, unable to sit right for a day. He got used to it, though, learning that more spit was better and that he liked being on his stomach. He would think of his fingers as somebody else's, muffling himself in his pillow when he discovered a spot that drove him fucking insane every time.

"Shit," he panted, already half-hard and getting harder the more he daydreamed. His eyes went back to the drawer and the vibrator. He flushed imagining what the little toy would feel like inside him, and felt himself straining against his zipper. "Fuck. No," he told himself, squeezing his eyes and his erection, but it was no use. Before he knew what was happening, he snatched it up and took it to his room, just like Judd's jacket. He shook his head at himself, disgusted with how quickly he got his pants and boxers off. He took his shirt off too and laid down on his bed after checking his door was locked.

Mickey spit in his hand and began stroking himself just to relieve some of the tension. He tried to keep his breathing steady but he was too excited, too horny, too everything. He licked his lips and wet two fingers, deciding it might be better to start there. He slid one in, only hissing a little, and moved it in and out. But he was getting impatient, rushing with the adrenaline of fear and intrigue. He turned over and listened for any signs in the house, then grabbed the vibrator and let a generous amount of saliva build up before spitting on it. The idea of shoving something his ma used up his ass only made him hate himself until it was past the first ring of muscle.

"Ooh, oooh my...f-fuu, ugh," Mickey stammered, breathing hard and shutting his eyes. He cursed and panted some more until it was in as far as he was comfortable. It was thicker than his finger and reached deeper than he was really ready for, but he waited for his body to relax before pressing the button. He howled and jerked, his ass lifting off the bed at the new sensation.

"Oh holy fucking shit, fucking...fuck me, God!" Mickey was shaking so violently, he almost fell off the bed. The tiny vibrations against his inner walls and the tip pressing into that spot made him so sensitive so fast. It hurt but in a good way. He shuddered when he began sliding it slowly in and out, his balls tightening and dick twitching under him. He didn’t even get a chance to touch himself before he was shooting his load way earlier than he wanted to.

"Uuuhhh, ugghh, mmmmhh oh! No, no...," he groaned, writhing on the bed and rattled to his core. He was burning from the inside out and there was more cum than he ever had before. He was mad at himself but also so shocked at what had just happened. He pressed the button to stop it, yelping when it sped up as he pushed it out. "Ah!"  He dropped his head to his pillow, panting and thinking he should've pulled it out first. He’d remember for next time because he was definitely fucking doing this again.

For the next few weeks, all he thought about and did was masturbate. His dick and ass were raw with how often he did it. It didn’t matter what time of day it was, if he was alone, he was pleasuring himself in some way. This included using the little toy whenever it was safe to, sometimes even when it wasn’t safe because he couldn’t fight the urge. Even just rubbing it between his cheeks and on his balls, thinking about whatever old actor or movie or friend, got him jizzing hard enough to see stars. He knew it was going to get him killed one day. You didn't grow up in this neighborhood, with his father, and not be straight. Mickey was gay, is gay. He knows it and wishes it weren't him, but it is. The only thing he can do about it is try and survive by any means necessary and hope no one ever finds out.

It's a month later and Terry's back inside, so Mickey’s a bit less careful than he should be. He quickly dresses and leaves his room when he hears mama come back from work.

She beams at him when she sees him, despite looking tired. "Brought you some more of those pizza things you like."

"Thanks, ma," he hugs her. She's been doing so well lately and he wants it to be like this all the time. He stopped wishing for his dad to stay gone forever, so now he just appreciates the time they do get away from him.

"Put'em in the oven for me while I shower? Did you get your laundry together like I asked?" She directs it at all her sons now in the kitchen hunting for snacks.

"Forgot," Mickey says, dodging a smack and wrestling his siblings that always seemed nicer without their dad around.

Kathleen rolled her eyes. "Where's your sister?" All three of them shrugged and continued acting like hooligans, as if she wasn't the true head of the house. As much as it was nice to come home and not be afraid, four teens was a lot without her husband whether he did any parenting or not. She took her shower, washing the smells of the salon off her and coming down from the day. She threw on some panties and a tshirt, letting her wet hair air dry as she went from room to room gathering dirty clothes. When she came to Mickey’s room, she was truly aware that he was growing up. It didn’t even look the same from when he was little, and it didn't smell the same either. She put all the clothes she could find in a pile then went for the sheets, pulling them off the bed haphazardly. Something hard fell to the floor and there was no mistaking the sound of vibrating. She picked it up and turned it off, knowingly holding it by the end with two fingers.

"Mikhailo? Would you come here a second?" She called, sitting down on the mattress. She heard his footsteps before he appeared at the door.

"They’re almost ready," Mickey pointed over his shoulder towards the kitchen. Then he noticed her face. "What?"

"Close the door, please, Mickey," she said softly, her voice calm but firm. He did as he was told because he knew better, but his face showed fear like he wasn’t sure he wouldn't be hit. She cleared her throat, looking him in the eyes. She held up the vibrator, "What's the story here, huh?"

Mickey was frozen. If he moved, if he spoke, if he even breathed he was admitting to something that he'd know for a while now. He watched her face as she waited for an explanation. That was the question she always asked her kids when she already knew the answer but wanted to give them an opportunity to respect her with whatever truth they wanted. It was both scary and comforting the way she listened until they were finished. Mickey knew she was giving him a chance to come to her if he needed to, but he had nothing. He bit his lip feeling tears well up in his eyes. They stung and he couldn’t hold them back, thinking about what he'd been doing, how stupid he'd been.

"Oh, sugar," Kathleen reached for him, pulling him to her so his back was to her chest and holding him tight. "It's alright. You got nothing to be ashamed of, okay? Nothing." She kissed the side of his face and his neck, resting her chin on his shoulder.

"I'm...I'm sorry," Mickey choked, sniffing and wiping his nose on his shirt. She shushed him and wiped his eyes.

"Look, I'm not mad. Whatever you do with yourself--"

"Ma," Mickey bowed his head, just wanting to sink into the floor.

"Whatever you find you like," she continued, knowing this conversation was important whether he was ready for it or not. "It's okay as long as you're careful about it. You don't need to tell me none of it unless you want to, but know I just want you to be safe and happy, okay?"

Mickey couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The words were echoing in his head and his ma's warm embrace was getting to him.

"You hear me, Mickey?" She ran a hand down his face, as he nodded. "Good. If you need me...if you have a question or need me to get you something--"

"Call you?" Mickey looked around at her finally, needing to see how much he meant to her in her eyes.

"Always," she kissed his nose, "my little man," she chuckled.

Mickey groaned, "I'm not little."

"Definitely not if you keep eating like you do. Get up, boy," she pushed him off and got up, gathering the laundry like nothing had happened. "If you'd just done what I asked," she gave him a look.

Mickey rolled his eyes. They both looked at the vibrator on the bed. Kathleen grabbed his chin and made him look at her, getting serious again.

"Don't think you're off the hook for taking what ain't yours, you hear? Especially something like that if you don’t know what you're doing. Now, I got that from one of my girlfriends and never used it, so I'll forget I ever had it and call us even." She raised an eyebrow and Mickey nodded his understanding, secretly grateful she was letting him keep it.

He was glad she was his mama.

**Author's Note:**

> Long update. I missed this series :)


End file.
